


The People We Love the Most

by charactersreadtheirstorysfan



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on a Dream, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charactersreadtheirstorysfan/pseuds/charactersreadtheirstorysfan
Summary: The dagger is a mystery and Claude needs to solve it.





	The People We Love the Most

Class is over for the day and the rose-gold light of the setting sun bathes Byleth in its rays, adding warmth where there was once only cold indifference. Claude sees this and marvels at the small smile on her face as she tucks Marianne and Lysithea close and reaches her legs out to press against Ignatz’s and Bernadette’s backs.

Making sure those who need the positive physical contact the most get it - even subconsciously. Even as she listens intently to Sylvain, Ferdinand, and Lorenz debate the duties of nobles. Even as Leonie tries coaxing Hilda to spar with her and Rapheal laughs and offers to spar with them both.

And amidst this warmth, Byleth turns her head suddenly, swiftly, and those eerie green eyes bore into Claude’s. She unwraps her arm from around Lysithea and extends her hand towards him, an invitation. 

Claude hesitates briefly, befriending everyone is not part of his plan - but Teach, Byleth, is. And if he can’t be weak for them, can’t connect, what will his dream even matter? So he takes that first step and as he steps forward the sun glints off the dagger strapped to the front of Teach’s hips. 

Yet, another thing that confuses Claude. Students are armed at the Monastery, but usually with training swords, axes, or bows. But Teach has never used that dagger as far as Claude can tell and she wears it at the very front of her body - like a taunt, like a symbol.

It must be more than just a weapon because it always on her - always. Where even the Sword of the Creator is stored in her room with her bow, axe, and lance. Even when attending meals or choir practice or having tea with her students it’s always there.

This is a mystery Claude needs to solve. And he realizes as he goes to ask her about it, that he has paused too long and Byleth is already becoming alert - scanning for a threat. For he is not often silent when they all get together, constantly asking questions and filing away the answers.

Hilda leans back and catches his eye and he flicks he gaze to Teach’s dagger. Hilda, being the amazing woman she is, nods slightly. 

“Professor, where did you get that dagger? That blue sheath is so pretty, it goes with your outfit so well!” That beautiful girl, Claude could kiss her. Manipulation and flattery, Hilda is the perfect spy. 

Byleth cuts her eyes from Hilda to Claude and it is apparent she knows who is actually asking. Claude doesn’t break his grin, waiting for her to decide. When she speaks it is a babbling brook, calm and fluid. Her words grab the attention of all of her students. 

“I have been armed with this dagger since I was very small. I do not know my age, but looking at how tall some of the children here are when standing next to Papa I would say maybe five summers old. A fisherman gave it to me as Papa and I left the village we were staying in, shortly before started up his mercenary company.” 

Her hands uncharacteristically flutter up to her neck. “That was also about the time Papa bought me this ribbon.”

Any response is cut off at the sound of approaching armor. Claude sits on the bench next to Marianne, sprawling out carelessly even as his ears perk. No one else looks back but everyone tenses, subtly preparing. 

They were all well aware the Monastery was not always safe - what with Flayn missing, taken right out from under their noses. 

None of them are armed except Teach. Lysithea and Marianne have their magic and each of them lean out from under Bylthe, letting her get full range of motion. Lysithea bends down like she’s talking to Rapheal and Marianne settles into Claude’s side like she is going to sleep. 

Both keeps their eyes on Bylthe waiting for a command. 

The steps slow as they approach Teach from behind and no greeting is called out. Claude is already planning how best to get everyone out and to the nearest weapons stash when Byleth explodes into motion.

She flips backward over the bench feet first and slams them into someone’s armor as hard as she can - they all hear the ring of heels on metal. And just like that, all of them are on their feet - Marainne and Lysithea lit up with their magic standing in front like the last line of defence.

And on his back, staring up at them, is Jeralt. 

He is looking strangely at Byleth - no, not at her - at the dagger. And Bylthe’s face is blank and pitiless - the Ashen Demon.

For a moment neither say anything, but Byleth falls out of a fighting stance as Jerlat stands and he carefully clasps her on the shoulder, “Good one, Kid.”

And then he turns and leaves - Leonie scrambling after him. She yells something about checking on him as she goes, but Claude doesn’t care because the rest of them are too busy staring at the Professor’s carefully blank face and utter lack of surprise at ‘attack’ from her Father.

Interesting.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is not until weeks later, when they are chasing thieves out of a nearby town just downstream of the Monastery that Claude gets anymore details about the dagger. 

By this time he has grown close with Teach, but he has trouble putting the words together to ask about her dagger or her father. There was something there, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

As Teach finishes off the leader of the thieves, she signals a majority of the students to comb through the village - ensuring no one needs help and that all the thieves were taken care of.

Only Claude, Lycinthea, and Marianne remain. Marianne is healing a cut on Claude’s face from when he wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings and Lysentia is berating him for being so irresponsible while trying to conceal how worried she is. It’s not working and Claude finds it adorable.

They are so caught up in their own bubble of warmth and friendship in the wake of their latest battle that they all jump as Byleth skids to a stop in front of them arms out as a shield as rocks and twigs fly up, a testament to her force and speed.

But as quickly as she ran to defend them, she sheathes her sword. Her cape resettling behind her shoulders and exposing the dagger. As her three students stand behind her Claude fingers his bow and Marianne and Lysithea hum with magic. 

Lysenthia loosley grabs a hold of Blythe’s sleeve and whispers, “Professor, what is it?”

Bylthe simply tilts her head towards a man emerging from the trees with a spear and a net full of fish - a fisherman returning for the day.

As the fisherman approaches the village gate, the chatter and hoof beats of their classmates reach their ears. As they come to a stop by their Professor, Sylvain and Lorenz dismount, bickering over the ladies in the village. 

As everyone starts to get caught up in the spectacle and the brilliant feeling of a job well done a deep voice rings out, “Byleth?!?”

Their professors face grows  _ fond _ and that is a look they have never seen before. 

“Jerome, I thought it might be you. It has been a long time.” Claude’s mind is racing, trying to put two and two together. 

“Too long.” The man, Jerome, says. “You’ve gotten so big. If you weren’t wearing the dagger, I wouldn’t have even known it was you.” There is a pause between them like something else is being said.

“Ah, I see so you are the Fisherman that gifted the Professor the dagger. She always wears it, was it perhaps her birthday? Jeralt gave her the white necklace she wears around that time as well.” Lysenthia asks, compiling her knowledge and this new-found evidence into her theories. His Deer make him so proud. 

Jerome’s face goes white and his gaze is guilt-stricken when he looks at Blythe. Claude feels his stomach sink, though he doesn't know why.

“You are still with him? I am so sorry. Sorry I didn’t do more, that what little I could do caused him to take you out of the village. That you traveled alone with him and had no one to turn to.”

Eyes of every color of the rainbow lock onto their teacher,  _ theirs _ , and even Leonie keeps her thoughts to herself. Teach lets out a sigh and Jerome steps forward wrapping her in a hug - and it is not until this moment that Claude realizes that  _ no one _ touches Blythe like this. It’s been almost a year and Claude has never seen Jeralt do more than clasp her on the shoulder.

Blythe  _ melts _ into the hug like she was starving for it (and she was). As soon as she relaxes Jerome slides his hands up to rest lightly against her neck.

Immediately, Claude has an arrow nocked aimed right at Jerome’s head. “Hey, want to think about taking a step back from our Teach?”

Jerome doesn’t even look at him - instead her reaches for the back of Blythe’s neck and unclasps the ribbon. 

“He should never have forced you to cover these up - it was his sin to bare and if he could not shoulder his sins he should’ve left you in the care of the village. We would’ve taken care of you.” Teach makes no move to stop him and that is the only reason he is not attacked as soon as he steps away from her. On some level she must agree with him otherwise he would never have gotten that close to her.

In the distance, their is a shout.

“My wife calls Blythe. She would love to see you again. Please come visit soon or I’ll send Minervra after you.”

Claude watches him go, feeling like he’s stepped into another dimension. He still doesn’t understand completely, but he understands  _ enough _ .

“Do I need to brew more poison?” Claude is completely serious because as their Professor turns to address them the roping scars that must’ve come from metal scraping against soft skin stand out starkly on her neck. They are old, too old to have not happened in childhood. For though they are visible they are the faint white lines of long healed scars.

“No Claude,” She sighs. “This is a lesson for all of you about the real world. One I know most of you are familiar with: Monsters are real and sometimes they are the people we love most.”

With that, she turns and starts the track back to the monastery. And it almost, almost stops there; her students shocked, cowed, and following her on autopilot. 

Claude strides forward quickly and takes her hand and when she looks at him, his eyes are so warm. He asks no questions and that lack of expectation is why she starts to talk.

“My heart does not beat. All of you know this, but it made Papa angry. I was a...thing to him. Something Rhea made, something not human.” Claude’s hand tightens around hers. She steadies herself to the beat of her student’s feet against the path. 

“We lived in this village for a few years, the longest we lived anywhere. One night he lead me to the river that ran through the village and he watched as I caught fireflies and looked at the reflection of the stars on the surface of the water.”

“To this day I do not know what came over him, but there was a glaze of madness in his eyes when he called my name and I looked back at him. Then suddenly I was being held below the water and my eyes burned as I stared at him from just below the surface. He gauntlets dug into my neck and I could see clouds of my blood float over my face in the water.” A deep breath. A repressed sob.

“He wouldn’t have stopped, but Jerome had followed us and he had been carrying the knife he usually used to clean fish. He stabbed Papa in the shoulder and as Papa reared back Jerome pulled me from the water.” Now Marianne joins her on the other side, hand grasping hers tightly. She too, knows monsters.

“Even then, Papa was so much stronger and so when he yanked me out of Jerome’s arms, Jerome shoved the dagger he used to get Papa off of me into my hand and I have worn it every day since. Just in case. When we found the next merchant Papa bought me the silk necklace and made me promise to never take it off - I promised I wouldn’t, for what would’ve happened if I had not?” By the time she finishes her story they are back at the monastery and they deposit her in her bed. 

They tuck her in with a care some would be surprised by. Claude almost snorts at the idea of them, her students, taking better care of her than her actual father.

As they closed the door behind them, the class quietly made their way to Claude’s room - this injustice would not go unanswered. 


End file.
